


Pilot Light

by EtherealPrince



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Allura (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Mpreg, Vague angst, galra-type omegaverse, omega lotor, semi-graphic description of birth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealPrince/pseuds/EtherealPrince
Summary: While drifting in between galaxies, Lotor has to turn his attention away from intergalactic matters to something much more personal and important.------------canon-divergent au, lotor survives s6. please heed the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

It starts with a curse.

“Quiznak.”

Growling, Lotor sets the controls of his ship to autopilot, and the cockpit’s purple monitors turn a dark blue as the controls are shifted to an automatic setting that lets the craft drift through space on a straight course, no planets or Galra ships in sight. With a grunt, he lifts himself out of the pilot’s seat—there was a living compartment in the back of the ship with a bed, and supplies, and most importantly _privacy._ The view of space out of the front of the ship was fine, sure, but even though there was no one around for lightyears to witness him Lotor still cared about whether he was in the open or not.

His cub was due to make its arrival very soon, he thinks.

He longed so much for the familiar cleanliness and efficiency of an imperial maternity ward, of numbing chemicals and failsafe procedures. There was nothing much he could do to help his cub along, not in the empty vastness of space with only his own knowledge to rely on—and although galra nature gave him the primal knowledge and instinct of how to give birth safely without medical intervention, he was…scared. Terrified, even.

That was a problem—the crown prince of the galra, fearful of something as natural and as common as labor? he had gotten worse injuries before; plasmic blades to his wrists and arms, whiplashes on his back. He’d been stabbed in the side and stomach and burned almost everywhere, he had seen war and lived through pain and suffering…but something about this made him fear the pain of life-giving more than anything else he had been though.

 

The pain was nigh unbearable now. Going on ten hours, contractions wracked the self-exiled prince’s body and had only gotten more intense since they started. Nothing more had happened, but Lotor assumed bitterly that active labor had most likely begun. This was what he hated about pregnancy in the _first_ place, he thought, this is exactly what he was hoping he could avoid by making himself scarce after the Kral Zera. Unfortunately, it didn’t work--Haggar found him, the damned witch, and since an emperor or empress must have an heir or two as soon as possible he was trapped, forced into being bred without his consent. As soon as the medical proof of a fetus had been discovered, he fled the Galra imperial ship and set out to get as far away from the empire as possible. He should never have returned in the first place, he thought, as the cub kicked violently at his ribs.

And so, for seven months, he had stayed in his ship. Drifting in the black void of space, only stopping to refuel and restock when absolutely necessary. He had initially contemplated preforming an abortion, but decided that it would be too dangerous for him to attempt it himself and too risky to have it done by someone who knew his identity.

 

Lotor settles himself in the living quarters in the back of the ship, shedding his helmet and outer flightwear to exchange it for a light altean robe, made of blue silk and organza that flowed around his legs and took away the tight pressure of his uniform. Thankfully, that discomfort hadn’t manifested until around a month ago—it seemed his galra heritage had influenced his pregnancy. Gala carried young for around seven or eight months, and alteans for _eleven_ or more. For that, he was thankful at least—and he had gotten big, but not nearly as much so as other pregnant galra he had seen. There was only one cub, and a small one at that, so thank the damn stars for that rare bit of luck.

Now that there was no other choice but to focus his full attention on actually giving birth, he resigns himself to sitting on the bed tucked next to the wall of the ship and breathing through the contractions, as they gripped his insides like a metal vice. With how long they had been going on for, Lotor could only hope that the ordeal was nearing its end. The worst pain was yet to come, but he just wanted it to be over.

 

After an hour, the most excruciating pain hit his middle and made him cry out—simultaneously, something within him broke and made watery, dark purple blood run down his thighs. Lotor was equal parts relieved and terrified.

 

In the vacuum of space, no one can hear you scream. Lotor wasn’t sure to be thankful for that, for privacy, or to feel extremely, violently lonely. He wasn’t technically _alone,_ he had the cub, but it was still more of a struggle to birth them completely alone than it would’ve been to do it in the presence of trusted medical staff, or his generals, or, hell—one of the paladins.

 

Stars, he missed Allura.

 

His thoughts are cut off by a different kind of pain, a burning ache that was different than a contraction. It was almost over, this he knew, and even though he was scared there was no way out of it now. He steeled himself, swallowed his pride, and bore down.

Long white hair stuck to his forehead and back with sweat, and with every small movement down he could feel the cub make the pain only got worse. He hadn’t screamed or yelled yet, trying to keep composure even then, but he was getting damn near close to it. The pain was worse than anything he’d ever experienced in his ten thousand years, and for a child raised in war and blood like Lotor was that was saying something. All he could do was soldier on, because as much as he hated the traditions that made him have a cub against his will, he was _not_ going to let them die. Not here.

“Please, child. Do not let us both die.” He mutters under his breath after a while, so close to passing out but also so _close_ to making progress.

“Neither of us deserve this.”

After what felt like an eternity more, the cub’s head slips out, and with a gasp he collapses against the bed. There was no time to rest, but at least that was over. He knew the shoulders and body would be the hardest part, but he was so _tired…_

 

After a minute, despite the searing pain, blood, and his heaving chest, Lotor sits himself back up and grits his teeth. He was the goddamned heir to the throne, the rightful ruler of the galaxy—he should be able to do this if nothing else. Again, though, that loneliness got to him and ate at the back of his mind.

He bears down once more, and as expected, the pain gets worse. This is surely the worst part, he thinks, it can’t get any worse than this. He knows that he physically cannot handle this kind of excruciating pain for much longer, so it makes getting the cub out all the more important, lest he falls unconscious and kills it.

Vaguely, he feels the cub kick him again. The feeling is numb compared to the pain, but he still feels it, and it seems like they’re telling him to keep going, because they’re _almost_ there. It gives him the motivation to keep going, and after a short while, he forces the cub out with a scream. Space is still quiet around them both as it had always been, and after Lotor falls back against the sheets of the bed the only sound to be heard is the soft hum of the ship’s engine.

 

After that, there’s an ear-splitting cry.

 

His eyes had closed, desperately trying to catch his breath, but the moment he hears his cub wail they shoot open and he sits up, wincing at the ache in his back and stomach and groin. The cub’s crying, breathing with strong lungs and moving its little arms around. It’s covered in blood and other fluids, but… But the cub’s _here,_ it’s light purple and furry and striped and has his hair, and it’s a girl. She’s perfect.

Something primal and feral enters Lotor’s mind, and shuts off all civilized thought, as he reaches for the umbilical cord connecting him and the cub and rips it in half with his teeth. With a shudder, he pauses, and a minute later tears the placenta away from the both of them as well, discarding it to take care of later. Everything could wait, because he had a cub to tend to.

“…Cub.”

Lotor gathers her up in his arms, only waiting to grab one of the misplaced sheets on the bed to wrap her in, and holds her head against his chest. 

“Child, my daughter, oh, _stars…_ I am so happy to see you.”

His heart’s beating fast, so fast, but he’s not scared anymore. He looks at his daughter’s tiny, purple face, sees little blue altean markings on her cheeks, and is completely lost in the pure joy and love he feels for her. He had never been more happy. He’s shaking, he notices. From what, he doesn’t know, but it doesn’t even matter when the cub’s tiny nose is sniffing him and nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck for warmth. Her altean ancestry was coming through even though her blood was galran, and Lotor couldn’t be more thankful for it. He sits there for a while that seems like an eternity, holding her and looking at her and not even bothering to wipe the tears streaming down his face away.

 

When he finally comes back down to reality enough to get himself together, Lotor sets on gingerly cleaning his daughter off with the sheet. When her fur—she’s got _fur_ — is clean, it’s fluffy and soft, and he absolutely adores how delicate she is. He gets up on shaking legs, robe falling around his ankles to provide him with a bit of needed modesty, and carries her to the other side of the living compartment. There’s a window on the opposite wall, made of six-inch glass that looks out into the endless void of space. a pink nebula looks back at them from outside, twinkling stars surrounding the ship like it was being carried through starlight.

“This is your home.” Lotor tells his daughter.

She may not have a planet of birth, no noble title to call her own just yet, but she truly is a star-faring galra. Her home was out here, where comet tails burned like fire and the galaxy held and caressed every being within it like it was made of pure magic. Lotor preferred that for her rather than being kept to a life of rules and subjugation, like he was.

The life she would actually have, however, was something different to think about entirely. he didn’t want her anywhere near his late father and the witch’s empire, but there was virtually nowhere in the universe where he could live and be accepted without threat or danger. he ponders where to set a course to while he rocks the cub in his arms, starlight filtering in through the window and landing on them both.

He thinks of an answer to his predicament just as his daughter yawns and opens her eyes to the stars, pale blues reflecting white light and making him lose his breath. Beautiful.

Lotor swallows, keeping his eyes on her even as the cold reality of what he must do dawns on him. He could relax now, finally relax, but there was no denying who lotor had to seek out at some point if he wasn’t going back to the galra.

“I must contact Voltron.” He breathes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lotor contacts the paladins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to NamelessIceGoddess for giving me the wonderful ideas for this chapter! i didn't originally plan on making this a multi-chaptered lotura fic, but hey, I guess we're fully committing to this.

Despite his knowledge of the necessary call to make, Lotor, surprisingly…procrastinates. Before doing _anything,_ before reintegrating back into the universe as the proud emperor he was supposed to be, he wanted to give himself just the smallest bit of time to tend to his daughter—now that she was out in the universe, living and breathing. He still had to name her, he remembers. There would be no old Galra naming traditions in his empire, that’s for sure, so he tries to think of a name that’s elegant, and has grace, but has a meaning that actually _means_ something to him. He thinks it over for a while, as his ship drifts on an automated straight course through deep space. His cub had ceased her cries, falling asleep quickly to his warmth and the beating of his heart. His enemies had before called him cold-blooded—who was cold now?

Lotor looks down at the cub’s sleeping face, how her hands clenched and unclenched in the cool air.

A name comes to him—Pyria, meaning firelight.

He lifts a hand to stroke a gentle finger down her cheek, testing out the name in his mouth. “Pyria.” He murmurs. The name fit her, he thinks, as she’s sure to be a ball of energy and power like him when he was older with the spark of royal blood running through her veins. If she was to rule after him, then Lotor was confident that her name would be spoken with awe and admiration rather than fear.

It was decided, then. His daughter was named Pyria, and with a huff Lotor decides that since he doesn’t have anything better to do, he should call the paladins—assuming he can get a signal out to them from this far out in space. He turns from the large window, starlight hitting his back as he pads over to the cockpit to send out a private, coalition-based distress signal. He eases himself back into the pilot’s seat, already feeling quite unfamiliar with the sudden shift in his weight distribution and the pain in his legs. With one hand, Lotor pulls up a purple screen from the sea of blue and sends out a simple SOS signal to any Voltron Coalition ships in the sector. If the Castle of Lions was further away, it’d just take longer for the signal to reach them, but he was assured that with their powerful technology they’d catch it. 

He needed their hospitality again, and he wanted Allura to know that he was alright.

After he gets the ping from his console that the signal was successfully sent, Lotor leans back in his seat and brings his free hand up to hold his daughter again. He never wanted to let go of her, not such a precious, _fragile_ being as her. He never thought he could love another living being this much, much less a child he was forced to birth against his will—but life finds away to change your mind, it always does. He didn’t mind waiting for a message back from the paladins as long as he just got to be alone with Pyria—no sneaking around illegal outposts on secretly inhabited asteroids, no plan to escape civilization. Not anymore, at least, because he had a different plan now. 

It was just simply ‘start her life off right’.

Leaving the console on, Lotor powers down the ship’s engines so they weren’t moving as fast and heads back into the living compartment behind the cockpit, where he decided he’d be staying for the next few days. There was extra storage space somewhere on this ship, he was sure…maybe he could find some things to make a nest with. With that plan in mind, he and his cub set out on a little quest of their own inside the small Sincline ship.

 

The second day cycle on the ship with Pyria, Lotor notices something’s wrong. He had slept most of the previous day, woken up with a headache, and had been sweating more than usual, even though he kept the ship cool. Despite his ailments combined with the lasting pain from labor, he spends his time slowly building a sort of nest in the ship’s living compartment out of sheets, blankets, and any other soft thing he could find. The ship wasn’t _big,_ not like his older Sincline cruiser, and he didn’t fancy himself a man of comfort, but he managed to find enough to make himself and Pyria a good-sized pile of soft, warm things to lay in. It helped with his headache when he laid down, anyway, so after he deemed the nest finished that’s where he spent most, if not all of his time. His cub didn’t mind at all, comforted by the warmth and softness of the world around her.

 

On the third day, Lotor, for lack of a better word, felt miserable. He didn’t know what was wrong, what happened, but his head swam and his vision shook. Everything felt hot, and muggy, and it annoyed him to no end. Galra had strong immune systems, but pregnancy weakens them, so it made sense that he could’ve gotten sick—but it didn’t change the fact that it was not only incredibly inconvenient, but dangerous for Pyria as well. Lotor hoped it’d pass quickly so he could gain some energy back, and while he waited he was content with playing with his daughter. 

She was a clinger, he noticed. She’d grab onto his fingers, his clothes, and his _hair_ most of all. Thank the stars that she had no teeth, because with all her chewing she could’ve ripped some hair right off of his head. It was _adorable._

They were laying in the nest, Pyria curled up next to Lotor’s chest and grabbing onto his right index finger with one of her hands. He was going to grab a blanket to pull over the both of them but numbly found that he had no strength to move his free arm. That revelation didn’t startle him as much as it should’ve, so he just lay there, eyelids getting heavier and mind getting more foggy, until he finally fell unconscious. Pyria paid no mind, but Lotor was _out._ The exhaustion had finally gotten to him—not even an emperor was exempt from fever. The ship drifted on, Pyria sleeping soundly and Lotor barely breathing, heart beating slowly.

 

Two days earlier…

 

“Allura!”

 

The princess whips around from where she was leaning over Pidge’s seat on the bridge, raising a thin eyebrow at Coran.

“What? Is there an alert somewhere?” It wouldn’t be surprising if there was—because of the paladin’s new alliance with the Galra Empire, they were getting more assistance calls from both coalition members and imperial parties vying for their help. They had all gotten used to helping and saving galra soldiers on the regular at this point, even though most of them were suspicious of their true motivations since Haggar had taken over ruling since Lotor had mysteriously disappeared, almost a year prior.

“It’s, ah…I’ve picked up a distress signal from what seems to me like a Sincline ship, waaaaaay out in the Plexius quadrant of deep space. It’s just at the edge of our radar.”

The moment she hears the word Sincline, Allura hurries to her stand in the middle of the bridge and asks, “Coran, could you bring up any more details about the ship?”

“Of course,” The older altean says, pushing a few buttons to bring up the distress signal’s source info. Sincline ship, model alpha, unlike any they had caught a glimpse of…within the past year. “…Princess, do you…get what I’m putting out?” He trails off, looking back at Allura with a worried glint in his eye.

The paladin is quiet where she stands, eyes wide and focused on the ship’s serial number. “It’s him.” She murmurs, more to herself than to Coran or any of the other paladins.

Lance, who had been watching the exchange eagerly (there was nothing else happening anywhere on the ship and the bridge always had the most drama), pipes up. “Uh, okay, what’s going on? Allura? Coran?”

Allura starts, eyes flicking back down to Coran. “We need to find that ship. Chart a course for it.” With a nod, the worry disappears from Coran’s expression as he rights the ship in the Sincline’s direction and fires up the thrusters. Allura finds herself breathing out a sigh of relief, one she didn’t know she was holding. They _found_ him. _Finally._

“Hello? Anyone in there? Lancey-Lance to base Allura, coming in.”

She shuts Lance up very quickly by turning to all the other paladins and answering his question with a renewed kind of excitement in her voice.

“We’ve found Lotor.”

Lance gapes, Hunk deflates in relief, Pidge laughs in surprise, and Shiro’s expression steels. Allura grins back at them, and turns around to provide the castle with the extra power they needed to reach their lost prince.

 

Two days later, after traveling steadily through space toward the Plexius quadrant, Coran triumphantly picks up Lotor’s ship on the castle’s radar. “Princess, we’ve found it! Shall we approach?” 

Allura checks her star maps, and sure enough, the Sincline ship is in clear view at the edge of the castle’s sights. She urges the engines to increase power, and the bridge lights up blue. “Yes, of course—I’ll make contact and see if he responds!”

A click of a button, and a holoscreen pops up in front of Allura’s face, broadcasting to the Sincline. “Emperor Lotor, the Castle of Lions has received your signal and we are on the approach to retrieve your ship. Do you copy?” 

The screen closes, and while they fly toward the stationary ship Allura becomes worried at the lack of a response. Lotor wasn’t a man to procrastinate or avoid, as she knew him, so if he was on his ship she was sure she would’ve received a response from him by now.

“Paladins,” She says cautiously, looking back toward the others on the bridge. “I’m not getting a response. We can stay outside the Sincline for a while, but if there’s no response from Lotor then I propose that a few of us go to check the situation out ourselves.” None of the lions were needed, she was sure, but still—two or three of them should board the ship manually and check to see if everything was alright. It _had_ been two days since they received the distress signal, and it could’ve taken longer for it to reach them in the first place…something could’ve happened. The paladins all nod in agreement, and as the castle slowly comes to a stop in front of the drifting Sincline ship Allura looks for any sign of life or movement within it. She finds nothing—and not even with her trained eye. With a huff, she turns from the bridge and walks down to head for the manual airlock. “Lance, Shiro, you’re coming with me.”

Lance jumps up from his seat a little too eagerly, happy to be chosen by her and possibly rub something in Lotor’s face when they found him, and Shiro follows without a word—his head was bothering him, but it was an old hat at this point, he’d still be able to operate well. If there was any chance of an attack or ambush, if this was a trick, he’d still be there to protect his friends. The three suit up and head out the airlock, floating in front of the castle and facing the Sincline. With a wave of her hand, Allura activates her jetpack first and propels herself toward the smaller ship, Shiro and Lance close behind. There’s a manual airlock entrance on the side of Lotor’s ship that surprisingly allows them to board, despite Allura’s knowledge of the former prince’s paranoia. They land on the floor of the ship lightly, the only sound around them being the soft humming of the engine. The ship _was_ moving, albeit very slowly—it meant Lotor had slowed the ship down to let them find him. Something definitely must’ve happened, Allura thinks, because he could always just fly out and find the castle on his own, right? This wasn’t normal.

Allura wanders around the back of the ship, with Lance on her heels, while Shiro goes to check the cockpit. It was eerily quiet— “Tell us if you find anything, Shiro. We’ll do the same.”

Brows pulled together in worry, Allura goes quiet after that and continues searching, fortunately, Lance does the same, so they look around the ship in silence. After a minute, they find what they were looking for, but it’s…nothing like they ever would’ve expected.

In the small living space near the back of the ship, there was, for lack of a better word, a huge pile of sheets and blankets and who knew what else. In the pile, about a foot deep, was the exact prince they were looking for—white hair spilled over the blankets, circles under his eyes, wrapped in a robe compared to his usual armored flight suit…and holding a small, fragile, newborn galra cub to his chest. 

Allura’s mouth fell open, tears gathering in her eyes when she sees tiny little blue markings at the corners of the cub’s eyes. Contrasted with the baby’s fur and purple skin, she knew that it was a halfbreed. Wracking her brain for possible reasons for why this infant would be with him on his ship, she only came to one conclusion—one that the connotations of made her heart drop. The reason he disappeared so suddenly after the Kral Zera, almost a deca-phoebe ago…he must’ve been pregnant.

“Lance, Shiro,” She whispers through her comm, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Come here.” 

A second later, Lance appears over her shoulder, whisper-cursing in surprise at the sight of the lost emperor. Shiro joins them, eyebrows raising in quiet surprise. None of them…really knew what to do. Lotor had asked for their assistance, presumably to board their ship once more, but they had never thought about what possible reason he could’ve had to finally contact them. From what they had discovered, Allura realized what was truly happening all this time.

For a moment, she was angry: why would he leave, why would he flee the empire and any civilized part of the universe when he knew he’d be safe with Voltron? They could’ve helped him if he didn’t want the pregnancy, _Allura_ would’ve helped him.

The next moment, however, she only felt a deep sadness for him. How lonely he must’ve been, this man who survived on knowing he was being successful and doing something worthwhile. Alone in his ship with the knowledge that he would presumably be forced to birth and care for a cub he didn’t want. He wouldn’t have stayed if he was all for having an heir or heiress this soon, after all. Allura knew that none of them had really known him for a long time, but in the time they did she had grown to…admire him. It only made her more worried for his state of health, because as she looked him over she realized that he was unconscious. Was there an infection? Sickness? Did the labor go wrong? How old was the cub, anyway? The first order of business, she was sure, was to get him back in the castle and into a pod as soon as possible. He needed to heal, and he damn sure needed to explain himself. The baby needed care too, and on this little Sincline ship there were obviously not enough resources to give it proper attention.

“We need to get them in the castle.” Allura whispers. Both paladins behind her nod—Lance speaks up.

“Where’d he get the baby from, anyway? It looks newborn.” 

Allura nudges his side. “Hush. Galra don’t reproduce like humans do, I believe it’s most likely his.” At that, Lance shuts up, and Allura contacts the castle to explain what’s going on. She steps away from the pile— the _nest,_ she realizes—to talk quietly to Coran, and Shiro follows her, but Lance stays standing in front of Lotor.

He didn’t necessarily _like_ him—that had been clear from the beginning. He was arrogant, prideful, and cunning, and he had clicked with Allura the moment she was convinced he wasn’t out to do Voltron any harm. Lotor and Lance had never gotten along, so he’d be lying when he said he wasn’t at least a little bit relieved when he went missing. Now that he was here, though, Lance could feel the guilt coming on. He felt bad for the guy, really—assuming that having a kid was virtually the same for galra as it was for humans, it must’ve sucked for him to be out here all alone for so long. Lance had been around babies and little kids before, he had siblings and nieces and nephews galore…so he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor little cub.

Without thinking, Lance reached a hand out toward the cub, just to check to see if it was breathing and healthy. He didn’t know how long Lotor had been out for, after all, the kid could be sick or hurt or hungry. His finger was a few inches away from the cub’s cheek when Lotor’s eyes snap open, and with a snarl shoots up and slaps Lance’s hand away.

Cursing, Lance stumbles back. Lotor growls, eyes dilated with fever, and gathers the cub closer to his chest. 

“Don’t you _dare_ take her.” The prince mumbles, voice slightly slurred in exhaustion. Lance raises his hands up in surrender, not-so-subtly calling the others for help. “Uh, Allura? Little help over here, he woke up!”

Allura hurries over to see Lance backing away from an enraged Lotor, who was swaying on his feet and obviously ill. His face was contorted in protective rage—it seemed like he didn’t recognize Lance when he saw him. Allura pushed the blue paladin out of the way, standing in front of him to protect him from the lost emperor’s wrath.

“Lotor, it’s Allura. We’re here to rescue you, we received your signal—“ He stumbles back against the pile, leaning against it heavily while he tries to support both himself and his cub through his fatigue. Allura reaches her hands out toward him, voice thick with worry. “Please, you know us. That’s Lance, and that’s Shiro, and the others are back in the castle. We’re here to help.”

Lotor blinks slowly, and tries to focus his eyes on the blur of pink in front of him. Allura’s soft voice was familiar, but through the haze he couldn’t pinpoint anything. He took a hesitant step toward her, but his knees buckled before he could do any more. The princess rushes forward and catches him in her arms before he could hit the ground, altean strength keeping both him and his cub up. She looked down at his face, and saw that his eyes had closed again—stars, what was wrong with him?

“Quiznak—Lance, Shiro, help me. Lance, get the cub. Shiro, can you get this ship into the castle’s hangar?”

Shiro hurries to the cockpit to play around with the controls of the Sincline and take it off autopilot mode, steering it steadily toward the castle where he asks Coran to open a loading bay— “We’ll explain later. Get a pod ready, he’s not in good shape.”

Lance reaches in between Allura and Lotor and carefully maneuvers the cub out from the much larger gala’s strong arms, holding it like he would his one-year-old niece, Rosa. It was surprisingly soft—but it did have fur on it, so he guessed that wasn’t much of a surprise. It was damn cute, too, pointy little ears and stripes on its cheeks making it look like a kitten. He follows Allura, who had shapeshifted into a taller version of herself to make it easier to carry Lotor, to the cockpit, where they carefully entered the Castle of Lions through the loading bay that was presently uninhabited by any lion. Once they land, Lance looks out of the cockpit to see Coran, Hunk, and Pidge, waiting for them with a mobile healing pod on standby.

The prince is carefully loaded into the pod as soon as he’s off the ship, Allura following him and Coran to the medbay to look him over. Lance stays with the other paladins, unsure about what he should do. He was still holding the cub—the obvious choice was to follow the alteans, but he was caught up by Pidge and Hunk, who were equal parts shocked and infatuated with it. Hunk had siblings like Lance did, so he was cooing over the cub like it was the cutest thing he had ever seen while Pidge was just trying to calculate what all of this meant. She comes to a similar conclusion as Allura did after a minute of thought, eyes widening in shock, and soon after hurries off to talk to her. 

Lance and the others followed, with Shiro trailing behind. That headache was getting worse, and now of all times was not the best time to have it hurt so much. Maybe he needed a round in a pod too.

 

In the infirmary, Allura had been left alone by Coran when Lotor was fully situated and healing. His stats had been slowly rising as far as she could see since he was placed in the pod, but there was still so much that needed to be explained…she knew virtually nothing of what had happened to him during his disappearance, and she wouldn’t say if to the other paladins, but she really hoped he would be alright.

Lance quietly walks up to stand beside her, cub soundly sleeping in his arms. She glances down at it—her, Lotor had said—and with a finger points out her markings. “She’s altean.” Allura murmurs, almost like she couldn’t believe it. They all knew Lotor was a halfbreed, but that fact only seemed to manifest itself in…in his _daughter._ What a strange concept, she thought.

“What are we gonna do?” Lance asks, nervously.

With a sigh, Allura crosses her arms over her chest, gripping her side with one hand. “I don’t know.” She whispers.

 

“I don’t know."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> allura starts a mini-investigation now that lotor's up and awake again.

Allura stays with Lotor the entire time he’s in a medically-induced coma in the medbay, other paladins filtering in and out but only the princess staying constant. The little cub had been taken off by Coran to get a medical check-up to make sure she was healthy, since the entire team unanimously agreed that living alone on a battleship Sincline craft was not akin to a large, well-outfitted cruiser. The castle of lions would be the galras’ new home, until they found a permanent one of their own or until the paladins had to switch bases—whichever came first. Allura’s simply glad they were able to get to the lost prince in time to heal him, because who knew how well he’d fare otherwise. Who knew the image of him lying prone and unconscious in a healing pod would elicit such emotion, she thought.

The Lotor she had known was nigh invincible, untouchable—it seemed like he _had_ no achilles heel. _This_ shocked her more than she liked, to say the least.

She watched his vitals rise. His heartbeat was sluggish, yet it was returning to normal—his temperature was high, but it was coming back down. His face had slackened in exhaustion and relief, and the circles under his eyes had faded. Allura found her own anxiety fading away as he healed, and she realized for the first time in a few days how tired she herself was. She placed her hand on her cheek with a huff- _’I really do care about him more than I think, don’t I?’_

Allura was shaken out of her thoughts by a soft beeping from the pod—Lotor had healed considerably and his brain waves were becoming more active, which meant he was waking up. The princess pushed a few buttons on the side panel of the pod, and fidgeted while she waited for it to open. The glass fogged up, and with a hiss the panel rose away from the pod, revealing a much healthier-looking Lotor within. The galra’s eyes blink open wearily, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into Allura’s strong arms. Healthy, maybe, but the pod leaves everyone disoriented.

“Lotor—!” She falls to her knees, and so does he, and they both end up in a half-kneeling-half-sitting pile on the floor of the castle. His large hands come up to grasp at her back, finally recognizing her after being delirious with fever.

“Allura. Allura, I—“

Clumsily, he leans back and sits on his heels, looking her up and down while his hands linger on her forearms. “…Quiznak, you really don’t look any different. What a relief.”

Out of pure surprise at his non-seriousness, Allura blinks once then laughs in disbelief. “Of course I don’t look different, it hasn’t even been one deca-phoebe! Was _that_ what was on your mind in that pod?” 

Of course, her question is a bit ironic, considering _much_ had changed about Lotor in their time apart, but she wasn’t clearly thinking when she was so overcome with relief.

Lotor looks back at the pod, then at Allura again, then around the medbay.

“…Where am I? Is this the castle of lions?” He didn’t remember boarding, only falling asleep in the nest on his Sincline ship then waking up there. The longer he was awake, he realized, the more questions he had. He tried to stand, but wobbled and fell back to his knees with a grunt.

“Where is my ship? Why am I here? Where—“ His questions are halted by his notice that he and Allura were the only ones in the room. If they were the only ones, that meant that his cub was somewhere else. If he was retrieved from the ship, was she as well? Immediately, anxiety started pooling in his stomach.

“Wh-“ He hesitates in asking where she is, at first assuming the paladins don’t know about her. “Where is my baby?"

Allura’s expression grows more serious. She knew he was bound to have questions, and so did she, but this was more a case of reassuring him that both he and his cub were safe and healthy. She mimics him and grips his wrists tight, to ground him. “She’s fine. Coran is with her, she needed a check-up— you’re both safe here.”

The lost prince sighs in relief, though a sort of worry still remains from being apart from his daughter. “How long have we been on board for? When can I see her?” He asks, less frantic.

“You’ve been on board for only about a quintant. We received your distress signal around four quintants ago, and you’ve been healing ever since we found you. You’ll be able to see your cub soon, of course, assuming Coran is done with her…” She hoped he was, at least. She didn’t want him to traumatize the poor thing with all of his whimsy.

Allura shakes her head to get herself back on track. “But, yes. If you’re able to walk, I can call a meeting with everyone and we can discuss what happened and what everyone needs to explain—including you, sir. Don’t think we don’t have any questions as well.” She says, pointing a delicate finger at his chest.

Lotor leans back in surprise. “I don’t—I swear to you, I have an explanation for everything,” He stammers, uncharacteristically. he knew that if he were to be rescued that he’d have to explain, now that it was all coming back, but…he wasn’t exactly keen on doing it in front of _everyone._ “I…simply do not wish to face everyone and confess what I have done all at once. It would be quite uncomfortable, to say the least.”

Fleeing his empire for a personal problem had made him feel ashamed enough, and if he had five humans and a Coran interrogating him about his disappearance and a very prominent biological event that was foreign to most humans, it’d only intensify that shame. It was too soon—his emotions were still out of whack and volatile from hormonal imbalance, and as of now the only people he could stand to be around were Pyria and Allura. The altean always seemed to have a calming effect on him when she spoke to him softy like that, and since they were such kindred spirits she was the only one Lotor could feel comfortable explaining himself to.

“All I request of you, princess, is to see my daughter and have some privacy with her.” He says quietly, looking down at where they were holding onto each other. Despite his relief at being in a secure ship with people he has trusted and worked with before, he noticed that his hands were shaking. What that was from, he didn’t know.

Allura sighs, and with a breath pulls the both of them up to standing position. Lotor leans against her, though after a second manages to pull his weight on his own and stand without support. “How about I take you to see her, and we can go to my room afterward to discuss things?” She offers, lips turning up in what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Lotor stands with little hesitation, still strong despite the lingering illness and pain from childbirth. “That would be nice,” He admits. “Forgive my hesitation to confront your fellow paladins, humans would not understand the situation like you do.”

Allura nods in response with a gentle smile, letting go of his arms to open the main door to the medbay. “Oh, of course. We are allies; it’s only polite that I honor your wishes.” Thank the stars that they only had to travel to a different part of the medbay to retrieve the cub, and not face all of the curious paladins at once. It was perfectly understandable Lotor preferred privacy; he had been by himself for almost a year, and was naturally solitary by nature.

The way there was brief—a short walk through a short hallway, and after opening another door the prince and princess are greeted with the pleasant sound of Coran struggling with a little purple ball of fur. Lotor starts violently at the sight of the cub trying to rip the older altean's face off, and before Allura can say anything he hurries over to the two and plucks his daughter out of Coran’s arms. She almost immediately calms down and quiets against his chest, while Coran tries in vain to smooth back his disheveled hair. “Terribly sorry for what you must've seen, but I swear I wasn’t hurting her at all! Everything was going just dandy until she woke up, and then all hell broke loose.”

“That’s how galra tend to be.” Lotor says with more than a hint of contempt. “You could’ve woken me up if she needed anything…captain?”

He wasn’t fully aware of Coran’s title—everyone just called him by name, but since he technically piloted the castle he should be a captain, right? And he was an elder, too, so there was just a natural impulse for the prince to call him by something more official. Despite it all, Coran waves him off.

“Just Coran will do, my boy—and absolutely not! You were looking as bad as a beached balmera back there, and under no convincing would I have woken you up any earlier than needed!”

Both Allura and Lotor roll their eyes. If Pyria was a little bit more grown, she would’ve as well.

“Anyway,” Allura continues. “Since I _assume_ you’re done making sure she’s alive and healthy and all, it’s alright for him to have her back, right?” She knew the answer was most likely yes, but it never hurt to ask.

“Of course! She’s all yours, your highness—and congratulations!”

With an awkward nod of thanks from Lotor (he still wasn’t really used to the concept of being a birth parent instead of a sire parent), he and Allura head off from the medbay and toward the princess’s room, right near the bridge of the ship. The mice are waiting for them when they get there, and quickly scamper up to higher ground to check out the cub once they’re in her room. Allura flops down on her bed, and lightly pats the spot beside her with a delicate hand. “There’s no more formalities needed here, it’s just my room. You need the rest, anyway, don’t you? It’s soft.”

“I can go for weeks at a time without sleep, princess.” Lotor says, sitting himself down primly beside a sprawled-out Allura.

“That doesn’t count when you’ve _literally_ given birth likely less than one spicolian movement ago.” She points out, wagging a finger at him.

He would say it _does_ count, but he knows there’s no arguing with Allura once she has her mind set on something, so he relents. “Either way, I value your hospitality. I was getting tired of staying on that little ship, anyway. Gets terribly boring after a while.”

“I can imagine. When did you flee from Daibazaal and the galra battle cruiser, anyway? We never…we lost all of our info on you soon after the Kral Zera.”

…Right, Lotor was technically emperor of the Galra. He had almost forgotten—with good reason, but forgotten nonetheless. He’d go back to rule eventually, of course, but emphasis on _eventually._ There was much to get acquainted with first.

Like actually explaining himself to his most treasured allies, for example. Allura was already getting on that, he noticed.

With a sigh, Lotor’s eyes focus somewhere on the wall in front of him and he answers Allura’s question somewhat absently. It wasn’t fun for him to dwell on the circumstances that made him flee the galra in the first place, but it was something she needed to know and something he needed to say.

“I left around a week into my rule. Haggar, the damn witch, somehow entrapped me in some dastardly scheme to get an heir to the throne out of me as soon as possible so she could steal the throne and influence the empire. I still don’t know all the details—but she never tells me anything, anyway. To make quite a long story short, I was cornered in a prison block and ‘used generously’ by some of the top-ranking generals in the fleet, all of them individuals who I knew by name.”

Which meant that one of them was Pyria’s sire. He didn’t like to think about that.

With one hand, Lotor gestures to the air vaguely. “Soon after that, medical proof of a pregnancy was discovered, and I left that same day. I wasn’t…thinking straight.” His voice trails off, fading into the silence of the room. Not even the mice were making any noise—they watched him with Allura, whose expression had gotten progressively more concerned as Lotor spoke.

“You…we could’ve helped you.” She says quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods.

“I know. I didn’t want to face you, vulnerable and ashamed as I was. I didn’t want to face any of you. I understand you are most likely angry with me for this, but it was better for everyone that you did not see me as I was then.” He had a _reputation,_ after all, one that he needed to keep up in front of the paladins as much as with anyone else of importance.

Allura huffs, looking down at one of the mice that was sitting on her stomach. It shrugged at her, and she rolled her eyes at it.

“I can say without a doubt that you would not have been judged by us. Have—have you _seen_ the paladins? They are the strangest group of humans I have ever met, and despite their strangeness they have good hearts. If you had come to us instead of taking it all on yourself, know that you would’ve been welcome.”

Lance and Coran might’ve given Lotor some trouble, Allura thinks, but _still._ They were still good people, despite their paranoia and protectiveness of her. It might’ve been awkward, or rough, or stressful, but she’s confident Lotor and his cub would’ve been okay if he trusted them enough to come to them for help.

“I know I would’ve been welcome.” He says quietly—not completely meaning it. He heard it, knew it, but didn’t _believe_ it. He had already been betrayed by so many in his 10,000 years, used and abused and suffered so much, it was a knee-jerk reaction to isolate himself and fix his own problems. “Forgive me, princess.”

His eyes are unfocused, trained on the wall, while Pyria squirms in his arms and grabs onto his clothing with her tiny claws. Allura lets her own gaze linger on his face, on the line between his eyebrows and the jut of his cheekbone. For once, Lotor looked old. There was more to him and his story than he was telling her, Allura knew that much was obvious, but it was a question of getting him to open up about it that was important.

How she’d do it, she didn’t know—but after hearing him speak with such distance, after seeing how he shut himself down to speak on a time when he was clearly under extreme duress, she was determined to help him leave that trauma behind and flourish like he was supposed to.

Allura realized that she cared about Lotor’s happiness. She wanted to see him happy.

That was definitely not what she had bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> l survive on validation--tell me what you think of this chapter or the work as a whole!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter--allura and lotor have some downtime before they go see the paladins.

They make idle conversation for a while to pass the time.

After Allura’s initial interrogation, she decided that she’d have to wait a while to truly get information out of Lotor and keep him comfortable at the same time, so for the time being she attempts a regular conversation with him. Lotor’s updated on Haggar’s movements and the status of the Voltron Coalition during his absence, and Allura gets the locations of some new asteroid belts and outpost planets to put on her starmaps in return. She finds out that if there was one thing that could make Lotor talk easily and make him happy talking, it was if she asked him questions about his daughter. By Coran’s estimations, she was just under a movement old, but Lotor already had many reasons to preen and brag about her, it seemed, and while he spoke of her Allura noticed that she could hear little snippets of information about the prince’s time on the run from the empire.

Laying on her bed, pillows surrounding her head and shoulders and the mice all snuggled up in her hair, Allura listens intently while Lotor speaks on Pyria’s apparent aptitude at learning. She should’ve known he’d be a braggart of a father.

“—And not even a day after birth, she could recognize the difference between the ship and the space outside. She would fall asleep easier if I wasn’t facing the window, but if I was she’d watch the stars so intently I could swear she was looking for constellations. She was very interested in the ship’s controls, too, she kept reaching for the joystick whenever I’d sit in the cockpit. That’s only natural, seeing as how I’ve held the title of the best pilot in the empire for more than a few thousand years.” He grins with pride as he speaks (monologues, really), lightly rocking the cub in his arms as she looks up at him with wonder. His voice wasn’t much more than a low hum to her ears, but it was familiar and comforting nonetheless.

Allura laughs, enjoying what it sounded like when Lotor smiled as he talked. There was a distinct difference from what he sounded like usually, when he was serious and composed, and more often than not stressed about something. “Are you set on her joining the empire as a steadfast soldier when she’s grown?” She asks.

Lotor rolls his eyes. “I doubt she’d want to do anything else. There are few chances to hold such a stable and influential job position in this universe, and she wouldn’t be subjugated by Haggar’s presence if she were to join my army. When Pyria is old enough, I’ll teach her how to fly and how to fight, how to kill.”

Allura snaps her fingers at the mention of the cub’s name—she had never asked what it was, the infant had just been ‘cub’ in her head thus far. _”Pyria,_ that’s what her name is. I apologize, I forgot to ask. Is it galra?”

Lotor’s eyes turn back down to his daughter, and they lock gazes. Pyria’s eyes were bright blue, while his were purple, and no full-blooded galra ever had blue eyes…they must’ve been inherited from Honerva. A pity. “It is. I would’ve named her something altean, but alas, my knowledge of the language isn’t perfect yet. Pyria means firelight.”

Firelight…it was poetic, and expected for a man like Lotor. Allura suspected he held Pyria’s future in very high regard, and she could already echo his sentiment. That cub deserved a good life, a prosperous future, and a pure heart. When one had suffered their whole life, like Lotor had, it’d only make sense that they’d want their child to have the best of everything. It was bittersweet, but Allura felt very honored to be able to witness this side of him.

“It’s a very pretty name.” She says to him. She tries out the name in her head, and then adds on a title to it—princess Pyria, empress Pyria. The cub was royalty, and Allura felt her heart warm at that knowledge for a reason she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Lotor shrugs, shuffling back on the princess’s bed to lean against the wall, sitting cross-legged. “It was all I could think of at the time, really. I was tired.”

“I can imagine. I can’t believe you two made it out of that ship alive, still.”

He huffs, shooting Allura a wry smile. “My will to live is purely fueled by spite, my dear. As long as I have unfinished business in this galaxy, I will not let something as commonplace as giving birth kill me.”

“Of course not.” Allura laughs, purely at the bluntness of his speech. “For the record, I and the other paladins are relieved you’re safe. Even Keith is—we wired him about your reappearance and he sends his regards.”

Lotor remembered Keith. He was the member of the Blade of Marmora, the one who had saved him from the explosion on Feyiv during the Kral Zera. They were kindred spirits, he thought, both solitary and determined with a violent streak to boot. “Where has he gone off to, anyway?” He asks. “I've noticed his absence from the team.”

Allura moves her hands to pillow her head, and the mice scuttle around to make up for the change in her position. “He’s been off on missions for the blades for a while now—he was sent to find a member named Krolia soon after your disappearance, actually. We lost track of him for a movement or two at some point but he’s back on our radar now, which is all for the better.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s alive.” Lotor agrees, nodding. He and Keith didn’t know each other very well at all, but he wished for the former paladin’s safety as much as he did the others anyway. In the short time they had all known each other, he had come to consider them as precious allies. The princess, something more than that, but he didn’t quite know what exactly.

One of the mice—the bigger one—scampers up onto Allura’s chest, and with a little shrug changes its posture and fixes its fur in a way that strangely reminds her of…

“Keith? Yes, we’re talking about him. Do you have anything to add?” She asks it, raising a white brow. Lotor turns to examine the mouse, as well as its unique and advanced use of body language to get its words across. Never mind Allura’s actual understanding of whatever language they spoke, how they moved and held themselves was far more interesting.

Pyria was interested in them too, big blue eyes staring down at the mouse quizzically. She cooed at it, and the mouse was distracted from its original conversation by her. Forgetting its Keith impression, the mouse tilts its head and eyes Pyria up and down in Lotor’s arms, whiskers twitching. Pyria does the same, and her head lolls to the side a bit too much for her father’s liking—he shifts a hand so her neck stays straight.

“It seems the mice have taken a liking to her.” Allura comments, raising a delicate hand to muffle her laugh. The other mice come out from where they had nestled into her hair, or next to her neck, and join the big one on her chest. Gently, slowly, Allura sits up, scooping them all off and depositing them on the mattress. “Off, you little tricksters. I could barely see her with you in the way.”

Pyria’s little hands reach out from her swaddle and toward the mice, eyes open in wonder. “She can play with them, if she’d like.” Allura says after watching her for a tick. “The mice will be gentle. They can’t do much to her, anyway, they’re all very small and light. Even Platt.” She gestures to the big mouse, whose tail swishes around behind it as a response.

After a moment of hesitation, Lotor shifts on the bed and half-sits-half-lays on his side so that Pyria is leaning against him on the sheets of the bed. A smaller mouse of the group approaches her and sniffs one of her hands, and while Lotor reflexively stiffens up Pyria seems unbothered. One of her fingers ghosts across the top of the mouse’s head, and the mouse squeaks at her, nose twitching.

Something remarkable starts to happen—Pyria starts to laugh. Her face lights up, and a very quiet little huff of a giggle escapes her mouth, as her hand continue to reach out to the mice. Both Allura and Lotor fall silent at this, Allura in pleasant surprise and Lotor in shock.

 

There was a peculiar tradition in Galra society, a tradition that kept whelps and cubs and young children from forming emotional connections with people they were around and kept them from getting distracted, all in preparation for their future job as a soldier or commander of some kind within the military empire. That’s why Lotor had Dayak. As the heir to the throne (before his exile), he was raised by her and taught to be a ruthless, emotionless, cold ruler with an iron fist. There was no distraction, and for a child that meant no happiness. 

He was a miserable, hostile child. He had grown into a miserable, hostile adult.

The whole insanity of the scene began to get to him. Here he was, former heir apparent to the throne of a violent, multi-system empire, cold and ruthless and suffering, always suffering, never free—And his _daughter_ was laughing, she was giggling in his arms, safe in his arms, and there were little space mice playing with her claws, and a beautiful altean princess was laughing along with them. His daughter, who had slept under his heart and knew the sound of his voice long before she was born, who he had birthed out of pain and suffering and duty in a cold Sincline ship in the middle of deep space, and whom he had loved more than anything— _anything_ — he had ever come to know in his long, long 10,000 years.

 

She was laughing, and Allura was laughing, and Lotor didn’t realize he had started to cry.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping tears he didn’t know he had wept away. “Lotor? Are you quite alright?”

Allura’s voice sounded concerned—and once he came back into reality, he realized she had a reason to be. He must’ve zoned out, stopped talking and went quiet when he got lost in his thoughts and memories. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a tick then opening them again, freer of tears and redness. “I apologize, princess. I suppose I…what was it? Spaced out.”

It was an earth phrase, ironic and strangely fitting. He thinks Hunk was the one who said it once.

“Was it Pyria? Was that her first smile, or laugh?” If that was the case, then Allura completely understood why the prince would have such an emotional reaction to it. Firsts were always very important to people with children, especially one as attached to their child as Lotor was.

Lotor looks down at his cub, how she was preoccupied with the mice. He had one arm around her head and neck, keeping her posture comfortable, and one hand barely touching the blanket at her feet. He always needed to be close to her—it was like she grounded him to reality, when he tended to get lost in the past often.

“It…was.” He says, reverently. He’d say he had never heard any sound more pleasing to the ear, but that would come off as waxing poetic, and he didn’t want to annoy Allura, so…

He sighs. “She’s very cute, isn’t she?”

Allura laughs, nodding. “Of course. I never thought a galra could be so adorable, but it appears she’s proved me wrong.” She gestures to Pyria: big eyes, fluffy ears and hair, tiny claws on tiny paw-like hands…the very picture of infantile innocence. The princess had always liked children, and this one was no different from all the little ones she had met back on Altea.

“Of course she’s adorable. She’s my pride and joy.” Lotor adds, a bit of that princely air slipping back into his voice as he reeled his emotions back in. This was nice, he thinks—just him, Pyria, and Allura (and the mice), alone and in private, where they can converse and bond and have time to themselves without the threat of battle, death, and destruction looming over their heads.

He’d have to face the other paladins eventually, he _knew,_ but for now, as he and Allura’s bright blue eyes met with a smile, he wished this moment would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY did it take some wrangling of my brain to get this one out. ive been aching for some lotura conversation and a bit of worldbuilding to get this au straighter, so this ended up being written. 
> 
> a note about this au: romelle is not in it! i apologize, romelle fans, i love her too, but when i came up with the idea for the au it kinda depended on lotor's villanous reveal from s6 not happening, and romelle's essentially what makes that happen, soooooo. yeah.
> 
>  
> 
> more notes: one thing i really want in this story is a lullaby scene. oh yeah boy, lullaby scenes always get me. the problem is i can't decide which of my two favorite lullaby-ish songs i want to reference in the future, so im going to link them here and see which y'all prefer.
> 
> https://youtu.be/p_cdXNWD1VY -Sleepsong, some irish song by Secret Garden  
> https://youtu.be/PtOyWfkg7Wc -Baby Mine, from dumbo, gets me every god damn time

**Author's Note:**

> this is a strange au where lotor survives s6 and ends up going back to the galra empire without having a huge battle with the paladins. the castle of lions is fine, lotor’s alive, and this is canon divergent in a way i don’t completely know how to explain.
> 
> thank you for reading whatever this is, anyway!


End file.
